


Patience

by sharmanat0r



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Fluff, M/M, Zombies, zombie!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharmanat0r/pseuds/sharmanat0r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of his life, Jean has never wanted anything to do with the world outside the walls. But a mini expedition into zombie territory shows him that love can be found in the strangest places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Warm Bodies today and I just really wanted to write a zombie fic and yeah it's very similar. If you haven't seen the movie/read the book, I highly recommend it. :)

The first time Jean had stepped out into the world beyond the walls, he wasn't sure how to feel. The majority of him was screaming "get back inside, you fucking twat," while the rest was whispering "but don't you want to know?"

Sure, he had always been curious about it. He had been born inside the walls. He knew humanity once thrived outside of them, but he couldn't even begin to imagine. He often forgot the rest of the world was there. There were other cities like theirs, but one had to be personally selected to traverse the barren land; at least, Jean assumed it was barren. 

Oh, and there were also the slavering, stumbling, flesh-hungry zombies running around. But that was beside the point.

Jean didn't think it was a good idea for any of those reasons. 

If he wasn't so eager to prove himself better than Eren fucking Jaeger, he could have been home playing old video games and avoiding getting eaten. But he couldn't let Eren make a fool of him. 

"We can outrun them. And they're really not that hard to kill." Eren said, glancing at Jean every once in a while, waiting for him to bail. Jean pretended he wasn't quaking inside. It wasn't a state secret that Jean was a very self-preserving individual. 

"You have never killed a zombie in your life, idiot." Reiner said, rolling his eyes. Bertholdt, at his side as always, snickered. 

"How the hell would you know?" Eren asked, jutting his chin out in defiance. Armin elbowed him.

"Mikasa is going to beat the shit out of us if she finds out about this. Maybe it's better if we just die." Armin said. Eren looked as if he hadn't considered it and his eyes widened. It seemed like forever until they finally reached the fault in the walls. It was small, but they were able to fit through. It led to a parking garage.

"Just a little farther." Eren said, leading them to yet another opening. The zombies never thought to infiltrate these faults because nobody ever got close enough for them to care. 

"This idea just gets dumber and dumber..." Jean mumbled.

"What are you even doing here, Jean? Isn't your whole motto 'stay far away from danger' or something?" Reiner asked. He wasn't making fun of him, for he was sincerely wondering what caused the change of heart. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see something outside these damn walls for once." Jean said, surprising even himself. "What the hell does it matter to you?" 

"It's very unlike you." Bertholdt answered. 

_Yeah, yeah... I know I'm a selfish asshole, you don't have to remind me._

They soon stepped out into the city beyond the walls. The air seemed to shift. Everything felt off and Jean didn't like it one bit. The sight of the crumbling, vegetation overgrown buildings did not bode well with him.

He noticed Bertholdt was gripping Reiner's hand like a vice. 

"S'alright, Bert..." He heard Reiner said softly, slipping his fingers between Bertholdt's and giving his hand a soft squeeze. Jean felt his heart ache a bit. Even Eren had his best friend with him. He was just the surly fifth-wheel nobody wanted around. In his self-pity, he almost did not hear the guttural moans in the distance. His skin crawled and he walked next to Reiner so he wouldn't be in the back alone. 

"They're far away..." Armin said, but he sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself more than anything. 

"That doesn't make me feel any safer." Jean said.

"You know, you didn't have to come, Kirstein." Eren said bitterly. 

"Shut the hell up, I'm fine. If you're not even a little afraid, then you're just dumber than I thought you were." Jean retaliated. Eren whirled around and grabbed Jean by the collar of his shirt. 

"I am not stupid, you fucking coward!" 

Jean shoved him away and nearly caused him to fall. 

"You fucking-" Jean started.

" _Shut the hell up."_ Armin hissed, looking at one of the building. "Over there..." 

"Can we go back? Please, this is not okay, guys." Bertholdt pleaded. 

A cluster of zombies watched them from afar, lumbering along towards them. They all looked fairly different. Jean had always expected them to be half-rotten with no skin left. But a fair amount looked almost... alive. The only thing that gave them away besides the filth and ripped clothing was the dead look in their eyes. It caught Jean off-guard how nonsentient they truly were. No hint of humanity lingered in those dark rimmed eyes. 

Jean stepped back quickly, tripping over a stray piece of building. A sharp pain erupted in his calf. The ruins were full of nails, screws, and other injury inflicting objects. He pulled a nail from the back of his leg and frantically tried to stand, his leg wanting to give out. 

"Jean! This way!" Armin cried, grabbing his hand. He had never imagined the day Armin would be faster than he. His calf burned and he tasted blood where he had apparently bit the side of his mouth. 

"Fuck, why now?" He asked breathlessly as he struggled to keep up with Armin, not daring to let go of his hand. He dared to look back and gaped at the hoard of moaning, rotting, walking corpses. He pushed past the pain, but he knew he couldn't keep it up for long. He wasn't sure he had gotten the whole nail out. He realized Armin was slowing to match his limping pace.  _No, no, no._

"Armin, run!" He cried, letting go of his hand. The pain was white hot. Armin stopped and looked at him with wide eyes.

"I can't leave you behind!" He argued. Jean shoved him towards everyone else. 

" _Go!"_ He said, beginning to hobble at a fairly slower pace. "I'll catch up." 

 _Now, Armin, if I die, you can tell the story of how I actually_ did  _have a soul._

"I'm sorry, Jean, I can't do that!" 

The groaning was almost deafening now and he couldn't help but laugh. Of all the ways to die, Jean Kirstein would die outside the walls. It didn't take long for the pack of zombies to catch up. He felt himself being pulled backwards and away from Armin and soon he couldn't see him through the sea of flesh.

He braced himself for the imminent feel of teeth ripping into his soft skin, but it never came. Somehow he'd ended up slung over somebody's back. He didn't open his eyes just yet. 

_Oh fuck, it's going to take me back to its fucking zombie lair and slow-roast my entrails oh my god._

He heard the din growing softer and farther away. And soon it was nearly silent. He felt himself being set gently on the ground. It was only then when he decided to open his eyes.

Crouching in front of him with its face mere inches from his, was most definitely a zombie. At least, that's the first thing he thought. It looked like a standard zombie with blood stains and grime and pale skin. But its eyes were surprisingly human. They held a warmth that he had not seen in the eyes of the others. 

Nevertheless, Jean scrabbled backwards before the pain in his leg stopped him. Fear coursed through him as the zombie slowly sniffed him and touched his face, smearing foul smelling on his cheek. 

"G-get back! I'm w-warning you!" Jean tried to sound menacing, but everything came out shrilly. The zombie cocked its head to the side and processed he was horrified. He backed up a bit, but still looked at him curiously.

"I... won't.... hurt..." He said, sounding as if he had not spoken in decades. It was slow and calculated and he looked frustrated by the fact that it took so much effort. Jean's hammering heart slowed when he finally caught his breath. He reached into his coat pockets, hoping to find anything useful in defending himself.  _Why am I so stupid?_

"Y-you... understand?" Jean asked, feeling light-headed from fear, exhaustion, and pain. The zombie nodded. "Why...?" He ignored the question. He pointed to himself.

"M...Ma...rco." He said slowly. He then pointed to Jean. 

"I... I, uh... Jean." He said finally. An odd little smile lifted the corners of Marco's blue lips. Jean had not seen many zombies in his day. He had only seen pictures. But he was positive that he had never found one...  _endearing._ The thought made him a little queasy. 

"You... You a...re... hurt." Marco said. 

"Great observation skills." Jean said. Marco looked a little downcast. "I mean...yeah, I am." He should be a little nicer to a fucking zombie who  _saved his life._

"Live... in... the wall... s?" Marco asked. Jean nodded. 

"I need to get back before this thing gets infected." He said, biting his lip and looking at the rogue zombie. Marco nodded once again and unexpectedly picked Jean up bridal style. 

"W-woah! What are you doing?" Jean asked, but refrained from squirming. 

"...hurt." Marco said as if it were obvious. 

"I can walk well enough." Jean lied. Marco laughed, a broken up, but beautiful kind of laugh.

"Won't they smell me or whatever?" Jean asked. He no longer felt afraid. Something about Marco was just too benign to even worry about. 

"No... m-masked..." Marco said, tilting his head towards Jean's cheek. 

"Ah, yeah, you put this shit on my face..." Jean said, scrunching his nose. He was surprised to find, however, that Marco did not really  _smell_ like he was rotting.

"Shit... yeah..." Marco said, laughing once again. A zombie with a sense of humor, how marvelous.

\---------------------------------------

Jean was surprised how easily they got past all of them. Their reliance on smell was a noteable flaw, but something that Jean was thankful for.

When they had reached the fissure in the parking building, Marco set him down half-heartedly. 

"Well, this is me." Jean said, pointing at the crack. 

"It... is." Marco said. Jean noticed his speech had improved drastically from his first sentence. 

"Well, uh, thanks... for not letting me get eaten... or eating me, I guess." Jean said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't sure what to do. He warily extended a hand and Marco looked at it. "Nevermind..." He limped into the opening and looked back at Marco who was doing the same.

"Woah, woah! You cannot follow me, Marco! Can you even imagine if I brought home a zombie? What a story to tell the folks..." Jean said, shaking his head. Marco looked at his feet and stepped back outside. 

"Good...bye... Jean." 

\----------------------------------------

It had been a few weeks since the journey outside the walls. Jean's parents had not even seemed that concerned when he came home with half a nail in his leg. 

"Just don't do it again." His mom had said with a heavy sigh. 

Much to Jean's relief, however, Armin was fine. 

"How exactly did you get back with a bad leg?" He asked. Jean wasn't sure if he wanted to share the secret of the cuddly zombie, but he figured Armin at least should know. If he could consider anyone in that damn place a friend, it was him.

"A... A zombie helped you?" He said when he was through explaining. 

"Yeah, man, he even had a name for christ's sake. It was just so weird." Jean said. But after a week of holding in the story, he wondered about Marco. 

The thought bothered him for weeks on end. Nearing one month, he decided he would go back. He absolutely knew the curiosity would never go away if he never did.

It had grown colder since he had been there, but the parking garage was still as empty as before.  _Maybe I'll just peek outside..._

He warily looked around the corner. It looked the same as before: empty. He knew that would soon change, but he had to step through. Coming alone was probably not the best idea; not that coming at all really was. But before he could think about it, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around and saw the face he had been hoping to see.

"Jean..." Marco said softly. "Not... safe." He practically scolded him. 

"Yeah, yeah... I just kind of wanted to... uh, see how you were. It just seemed fair, you know?" Jean said, looking away from Marco's eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?" Marco shrugged.

"I... wanted to... make sure... you did...not... do... dumb th...ings..." Marco said, running short on breath.

"Don't sugar coat it." Jean said, offering a small smile.

This sort of thing went on for a while. Most every week, Jean would go to the parking garage and Marco was always there. It was surely taboo to befriend a zombie, but Jean couldn't help that it was probably the coolest thing in the world. He was less afraid of Marco than most humans, really. 

"Marco, do you remember anything from your past life?" Jean asked one day. They had chosen to lie on the hood of a '67 Impala that day. 

"Only... my name." He said, rolling to his side to look at Jean. Jean never admitted it to himself, but the way Marco looked at him was the way most people always wanted to be looked at like. He averted his eyes, looking at the concrete ceiling. 

"That kind of sucks... But I guess it would suck more to remember everything...." Jean said, cringing at the thought. "Say, you're beginning to talk better than most of the people my age." Jean said, changing the subject.

"Really?" Marco asked, eyes widening. He looked away for a moment and sharply sucked in air he didn't even need. Or, so Jean thought. "I... My heart..." He started. 

"What about it?" Jean asked. Marco mumbled something inaudible and slowly took Jean's hand, putting it on his chest. Jean was confused, but felt a faint beat. 

"Oh!" Jean said, taking his hand away quickly and gaping. "What... what was that?" He asked. 

"I don't know when... it happened..." Marco said. 

"Amazing... Just... There isn't supposed to be a cure..." Jean said, looking at the palm of his hand as if it held Marco's life force. "Fantastic. Marco, you're... wow." If zombies could blush, Marco certainly would have.

\-----------------------------------------

Jean didn't know at what point in their relationship he had ever decided it was a good idea to smuggle Marco inside the walls. 

"Just put these on. Nobody will notice, I swear." Jean said, handing Marco a change of clothes. 

"This doesn't sound like a... good idea." Marco said, looking worried. He changed anyway. 

There had not been an infiltration in years, so the security level was relatively low. It was also night, making it harder for others to make out Marco's face. He had the hood of his jacket up and was looking at the ground, stiff with fear. 

"It's alright. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." Jean said, taking his hand. 

When they reached Marco's house, it was quiet. His parents were still out and he had no siblings. 

"My parents probably won't be home for a while. Just make yourself at home." Jean said.

"Do you... have a shower?"

\------------------------------------------

The first thing Marco noticed was the cuts and wounds that had once littered his torso were now smaller. He even noticed a scar.  _You don't heal when you're dead..._

He watched as the filth went down the drain and he felt clean for the first time since... well, his whole life as a member of the undead. His eyes still looked like somebody's with extreme insomnia and he was still pale, but a slight pinkish tint colored his cheeks when he emerged from the shower. His lips were even slightly pink. 

In only a towel, Marco emerged from the bathroom. 

"Should I... wear the same clothes?" He asked. Jean looked up from the couch and his lips parted a bit in surprised before he closed his mouth quickly and cleared his throat.

"You look... nice." Jean said, completely forgetting about the question for a moment. "I mean, no you can totally wear whatever you want..." He said. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt and handed them to him quickly. "You probably haven't gotten to chill in comfy clothes in a while." He said, averting his eyes from Marco's surprisingly appealing torso. He had a few cuts and scars, but other than that, it was just... a problem for Jean.

"Um, when you get changed, we're going to play Super Mario." He said sheepishly.

To Jean's surprise, Marco was fantastic at Super Mario. 

"Are you positive you weren't born in the 80s?" Jean asked.

"It's possible..." Marco said, shrugging. Jean kept looking over at him, taking him in. He was basically impossible. He was dead, but also alive. He was a walking conundrum if he had ever seen one. And he had to admit Marco cleaned up well... like,  _really_ well. And it didn't seem odd to him anymore that he really had feelings for Marco. 

"I'm glad I went outside the walls that day." Jean blurted out. Marco nearly dropped his controller. 

"Yeah?" He asked, his weakly beating heart speeding up as much as it could.

"I never fucking thought I would say this to a..." Jean stopped. He wasn't zombie. "Marco, will you stay here?" He asked, his heart heavy. What if he said no? Marco was a sensible person, even if it drove Jean insane. Marco's eyes widened and he leaned across the couch to pull Jean close. 

"Are you serious?" He asked into Jean's shoulder. 

"Fuck, yeah do you really think I  _want_ to take you back to all of those bumbling, thoughtless dudes?" Jean asked, desperately holding onto Marco. 

"Of course I'll stay..." Marco said softly, his voice giving out. But this time it wasn't because of zombie-language complications. Jean gasped a little when he felt a small heart beat that was not his own. And he kept feeling it.  _  
_

"Marco!" Jean said excitedly.

"My god... that's mine." Marco said, shuddering. Jean pulled away from the embrace and kissed him. It was something Marco had never let himself expect. He felt as if his heart would simply beat right out of his chest now. 

"I'm sorry." Jean said breathlessly. "I'm just really happy."

"Don't be sorry..." Marco said, biting his own lip and trying not to cry.

"How weird is it going to be explaining where I found you?" Jean asked.

"Couldn't we just savor the moment for a second or two?" Marco asked, pressing a small kiss to Jean's nose. He could get used to this.

"Eh, you know me." Jean said, shrugging. "For the record, I'm glad nobody can call me a necrophiliac."

"Oh my god, shut up." Marco said and pressed a kiss to Jean's lips to do just that. 

 

 


End file.
